


paloma

by brokendrums



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Felching, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2017-06-10
Packaged: 2018-11-12 15:00:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11164308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokendrums/pseuds/brokendrums
Summary: Niall makes a brief detour to catch up with Harry in Mexico.





	paloma

He’s going for the golf. 

That’s what he tells himself, anyway. It’s what he tells the rest of the band too. Eyes tend to glaze over when he starts talking about golf so he gets away with it. 

He’s already sweating as the plane touches down with a jolt, the aircraft small and jerking on its wheels. He knocks back the last of his drink, the plastic glass cracking between his sweaty palms. It’s maybe too early but he hasn’t really been to sleep yet, running on coffee and then on Jameson and ginger.

Now he’s landed, it’s starting to sink in that he’s actually here, actually doing this. It was fine as he had sat in the airport waiting to board, the flight not really feeling real as it taxied down the runway and took off. He had been so caught up in the hassle of getting a direct flight so last minute, his phone burning a hole in his pocket as he tried not to check _again_ for a message telling him not to bother, that everything else sort of floated to the back of his mind. 

He pulls his hat down low as he steps out onto the tarmac, the sun high in the sky. It’s nearly lunchtime but Niall didn’t think it would feel hotter than Vegas. His t-shirt sticks to him, his jeans feeling too thick over his thighs. He wishes he wore something lighter. 

He only has the bag slung over his shoulder so he by-passes the luggage carousels, waits through customs with his stomach churning until he’s in the back of an air-conditioned taxi, the leather seat covers cracked under his palms as he sits on his fingers to stop biting at them.

The town whizzes past the window, all sun, sea and sand. Tourists mill down the pavements in flip flops and sarongs, a group of youngsters carrying a water cooler, restaurants with their open fronts and tables spilling out towards the road. Niall hardly sees any of it, his mouth drying as the car winds closer towards the coast. 

A concierge eyes him up and down when he steps inside the foyer of the resort, all cool marble and flowering bouquets of tall lilies. There’s a couple checking in ahead of him so Niall waits, wiping his palms on his jeans. He doesn’t have a reservation and feels a bubble of panic as the couple starts to finish up their transaction at the counter. They look ridiculously happy, his hand wrapped around her elbow so they’re still touching as she signs the paperwork. Niall wonders if they’re on their honeymoon. Wonders how they met. 

It distracts him enough that he doesn’t feel as idiotic as he should sliding up to the sleek marble check in desk and saying _oh, can you tell me where Harry Styles is staying please._

The man’s eyebrows rise at the sight of him and Niall smiles nervously, buys a standard room so he doesn’t look as odd.

“Do you want one with a view?”

Niall snorts. He won’t even see the inside of the room if he can help it. 

He slips the key card in his back pocket and pulls off his hat. His hairline is damp, his hair wilting as he rubs his fingers through it. He doesn’t even know what name Harry’s going under. His phone feels heavy in his hand as he considers phoning him but the thought filters out of his head as soon as he thinks about it, his throat tight at the thought of the stilted phone call. They haven’t talked properly in months. 

The double doors beside the check in desk open out onto the terrace that overlooks the ocean. Niall peers out, the sun making him sweat again as he leaves the haven of air conditioning inside the hotel. 

It’s stunning. Niall pauses to glance over the way the series of pools sprawl out below him, their water seemingly tipping off the edge and right into the sea. Everything looks still and quiet, a few people lazing on some loungers in the shade. Niall can see why Harry chose it. 

He spies them immediately, tucked into a corner at the far end of the resort. He’s walking towards them before he really realises, his feet carrying him through the winding stone pathways and low whitewashed walls. The hotel climbs up around him, looking like an impressive Bajan walled city. White linen curtains flap with the sea breeze, everything a dreamlike cerulean blue. 

Glenne turns her head when he approaches the pool. She’s the only one in it, floating on her back. She doesn’t say anything, her mouth curving up into half a smile in acknowledgement. Jeff’s on the edge, his feet dangling into the water. He’s curled over his phone and he lifts his head, his eyebrows rising like the receptionist. There’s a man Niall doesn’t recognise, his eyes half-shuttered and focused on a crumpled looking paperback sitting on a lounger nearby, his hand curled around a cold bottle of beer. 

Harry’s stretched out across a wide sofa, his head pressed into a white pillow. Niall can only see the crown of his head, his hair a mess but the steady rise and fall of his bare shoulders tell him that he’s asleep. 

Niall swallows. This isn’t a scenario that he considered as he ran through their reunion on the flight. He hadn’t expected Harry to be fucking dead to the world when he arrived. He glances over at Glenne in the pool, her mouth pressed into a line to stop herself from laughing. 

It makes him relax a little, Niall forcing himself to see the funny side as he drops his bag down onto the mosaic tiled ground. He slides his wallet out of his back pocket and collapses onto the other end of the sofa, the cushions more comfortable than they look and closes his eyes against the sun. 

*

He wakes to water dripping down his cheek and it takes a few moments, his eyes adjusting to the bright sun to realise that Harry’s standing over him. 

He jerks, his hand flailing out and Harry shoves his knee up onto the sofa to stop himself from toppling over the edge. Niall takes a breath, his palm pressed against the wet skin of Harry’s thigh. 

“Hard work, lying there sunning yourself,” Harry says cheekily, his face breaking into a grin. 

Niall snorts, pulling himself up onto his elbows so he isn’t so sprawled across the cushions. “You’re one to talk.”

Harry’s smile widens and then he’s leaning forward, pushing into Niall’s arms. Niall smiles into his wet shoulder, the water cooling on his skin. He feels it against his cheek, his nose, his lips. 

Harry smells clean, of pool water and sunscreen and a lingering hint of cologne. His hair is pulled up into a hairband and away from his face, a few stray strands curling out from below it. When he pulls away, his eyes look soft, his lips full as he smiles wide at him again. 

They’re still half hugging, Niall’s hand settled on the warm space below his ribs. Where he’s not wet, his skin is hot, the sun slicing across his back so Niall’s half in shadow. 

“I’m not here for long,” Niall warns him, tugging his lip between his teeth. 

Harry’s eyes drop to his mouth and then back up to meet his gaze. “Do you want a drink?”

“Harry --” Niall says, his voice rough still with sleep. He needs Harry to understand. 

Harry nods, his gaze skirting away. “That’s okay.”

Niall swallows down the swell of want that goes through him. He wants him. He _wants_ to stay longer. But he shouldn’t be here in the first place, his schedule mapped out right through June. 

He sweeps his hand up Harry’s side, his thumb running over the edge of his abs. He hasn’t touched him in forever and they’re still pressed tantalisingly close. He glances up, finds Harry already watching him.

“Do you want to shower? Change?” Harry asks, suddenly twisting away. Niall watches him as he steps up straight, his body staggering slightly until he’s out of the shade entirely and drenched in sun. 

Niall nods, scooting to the edge of the sofa and standing. He picks up his bag and his shoes, the soles of his feet burning on the pale stone walkway as he follows Harry’s path through sun loungers and little tiled pools of water towards a secluded villa at the edge of the resort. He can feel the eyes of Harry’s friends on their retreating backs and Niall feels hot under it, sweating again through his shirt. Niall doesn’t need a reminder that he’s somewhat of an outsider here. 

Harry’s shoulders are rounded, his hands by his sides as he leads the way. Niall can see how nervousness has seeped into his bones, the way he looks weighed down by it. Strained. 

Niall feels the same. Nerves and hot, blinding anticipation igniting in his belly as they creep closer to the villa. It’s been so long. Niall can hardly stand it. 

The villa overlooks the sea, the sprawl of it leading right down to the beach. Harry gives him a quick smile as they step inside, his gaze flitting away again as Niall walks further into the villa. Harry’s suitcase is in the middle of the living area, cream and white furnishings pristine and Harry’s clothing spilling out onto the marble floor. 

The villa is cleaved in two by a pool, the water completely still by the kitchen area and leading the whole way through the house until it widens out into a proper pool outside. In fact, Niall sees with an unexplainable ache in his chest, there’s no back wall on the villa at all, the living space opening out so Niall can see the sea and stretching horizon. 

“Holy shit,” Niall murmurs, taking in the view. 

Harry chuckles softly, coming up to stand beside him. “I know.”

He lifts a hand, his fingertips trailing over Niall’s neck before they curl into the handle of his bag. Niall turns his head, sees how Harry is looking at him intently as he takes his bag off him. 

“Harry,” Niall murmurs, turning towards him slightly. Harry breathes out through his nose, his nostrils flaring. 

Niall takes him all in, the slight stubble on his top lip, how red his mouth is, the darkening look in his eyes. He can see the indents on the bridge of his nose from his sunglasses, the red patch on his forehead where he’s caught the sun. 

Niall sighs into the kiss, both of them coming together at the same time so it feels like one moment he’s breathing and the next Harry’s lifting a hand to his jaw, angling him just right.

Harry makes a noise, something low that Niall wants to bottle. Sounds that he’s missed. Sounds that he hasn’t heard in months and months. 

Niall slides his hands across Harry’s hips, clutching him closer. He’d been so worried it would be awkward but his lips are warm and wet and Niall’s happy to just kiss back, their mouths moving against each other frantically. 

Niall feels hot, the collar of his t-shirt catching against his throat as Harry tugs on the hem of it, his fingers curling into a fist at the small of his back. 

“Here,” Niall says, pulling away with a gasp. Harry’s jaw lifts, his mouth following him out of instinct. Niall steps back a moment, pulls the t-shirt up over his head and Harry’s hands are on his sides before Niall’s really threw it away.

“I should shower,” Niall tells him through panting breaths. Harry’s hands are tracing across his body, making it hard to think straight. “The plane --”

“Ssh,” Harry says, bending his knees so he can kiss his way down Niall’s chest. Niall threads his fingers into Harry’s hair, damp from his dip in the pool. His skull is hot underneath all of his hair, Niall presses the pads of his fingers to it, feels it.

It’s too quick. 

Harry kisses his way down Niall’s tummy, his tongue swirling and searching. Niall’s legs shake, Harry’s fingers curled into the material of his jeans where he’s tugged them down Niall’s thighs. Niall keeps one hand on Harry’s shoulder, the other pressed against a dresser to steady himself as Harry sucks him off. 

It’s too fast. 

Niall curls over, his knees nearly giving out as he comes. His mouth too dry to even kiss Harry back, nevermind suck him off. Harry’s breathing fast by his knees, his eyes wide and watering as he stares up at him. Niall regrets that last drink on the plane, his head starting to pulse behind is eyes. The open, nearly vulnerable look on Harry’s face is too much. 

Niall staggers over to the bed, falling onto the cool sheets. “Hold on,” he mutters, running his tongue over his teeth. He wonders if it’s too embarrassing to ask for a glass of water. Fuck.

Harry chokes out a laugh, falling back to sit on his arse at the foot of the bed. “Well. If I knew that would happen, I would’ve made you go first.”

Niall laughs into the duvet. He can feel Harry’s hands on his ankles and then he’s pulling Niall’s jeans the rest of the way off, the breeze from the rotating fan on the ceiling cooling the sweat that’s gathered behind his knees. 

“Come on,” Harry whispers into the back of his thigh, pressing a kiss there. Niall jerks from the shock of it, his dick jumping at the thought of Harry’s mouth creeping up closer. 

Harry gives him a look from under his lashes, his smile turned smug. He looks silly half hidden by the end of the bed, just a set of shoulders and one arm slung over Niall’s calves but Niall can’t find it in him to laugh. 

“Shower?” Harry suggests and Niall takes in how pink his cheeks are, the hint of desperation he’s desperately trying to hide from him. Niall can’t see but he knows that his other hand must be touching his dick. 

The bathroom is just as fancy as the rest of the villa, sleek tiles and chrome waterfall shower nozzles that spray pleasantly lukewarm water over them. Harry kicks his shorts off at the door, his hand cupping around his erection.

Harry’s gone red, his face and neck flushed all the way down his chest. He’s just as big as Niall remembered -- familiar. He stares unashamedly. Harry looks pleased. 

Niall still feels a bit shaky, following him behind the glass. Harry turns under the spray, water rolling down over his shoulders and chest in rivulets. Niall lets the water soak into his hair, run over his face. He opens his mouth, lets it spray onto his tongue. Harry smirks at him, leaning back against the wall, his hand pulling teasingly slow at his cock. 

“Take your time,” Harry says, just loud enough over the spray of the water. Niall laughs, spits the water between his feet. 

“Okay,” Niall teases, reaching for a bottle of fancy hotel shampoo. Harry’s eyes flash, his smirk slipping for a second and Niall laughs, the sound of it reverberating around the tiled shower. 

“Not fair,” Harry says, tilting his head to try and look more innocent. Niall laughs again, softer this time. He uses his hands, walks Harry into the corner of the shower so he can box him in. Harry grunts and gasps through it, one hand clamped around Niall’s forearm as if he’s helping Niall pull him off. 

All through it, Harry’s eyes never leave Niall’s face, as if he’s drinking him in. Niall would be unnerved but he gets it. It nearly doesn’t feel real after all this time. 

“I’m --” Harry says, his hand going to Niall’s shoulder, urging him down. Niall drops to a knee, water spraying over the back of his head as Harry feeds his dick into his mouth. Niall breathes through it, jaw already aching as Harry fucks carefully into his mouth. Harry’s still staring, his gaze hardly wavering as Niall curls his tongue, gets used to the weight of him in his mouth again. Niall presses a palm to the wet hair on Harry’s thigh, the other reaching up to play with his balls. 

Harry curls over, a hand cradling the back of Niall’s head and his dick pressed to the back of Niall’s throat. 

Niall swallows, the bathroom echoing with how loud Harry said his name. 

*

Jeff pops a bottle of champagne when Niall and Harry head back outside. Niall’s gaze flits from the champagne splashing over the patio to Harry to see him smiling bashfully and realises that it’s in celebration for his album. 

“Proud of you, H,” Jeff intones, spilling champagne into glasses clustered in the centre of the table at his knee. The rest of the party press in with murmurs of agreement. 

“And I’m proud of you,” Harry replies, laughing as if this is a common conversation. 

He looks up at Niall from under his lashes and passes him a glass. 

It’s the only reference they’ll make to the album, both of them skirting around it in the past. Now that it’s out, Niall doesn’t see how it’ll be any different. 

It’s an unspoken rule they’ve bargained out between themselves, neither of them interested in ruining whatever _this_ is between them in the short time they have together. 

Niall isn’t sure if it’s healthy -- they’re probably just putting off the inevitable. Harry’s always been better at blindly ignoring things he doesn’t want to talk about but Niall can’t quite cut ties like that. He finds himself sneaking onto Twitter to see what he’s been up to, jealousy and yearning and pride welling up inside him in equal measures. 

It’s all just a reminder how they’re not doing it together anymore. 

So they don’t mention it. 

In fact, they hardly talk at all. 

Not until Harry’s squeezing up into the spot between Niall and the back of the sofa, stretching his body along Niall’s, body hot from lying in the sun.

“I’m glad you came,” Harry says, his lips rubbing against the skin close to Niall’s nipple. Niall shivers, shifts onto his side so they’re facing each other. He’s still radiating heat like a hot stone. There’s a tiny part of Niall that likes it like this, the rest of Harry’s friends somewhere behind Niall’s back. Private. Insular. 

Harry gives him a smile, the dimple in his cheek pressing in. It makes Niall chuckle, makes him want to press his thumb into it. “You’re just glad you got your dick wet.”

Harry’s grin turns cheeky. “That too. Can’t really complain.”

Silence stretches out between them, Harry’s eyes drooping where he’s tucked into Niall’s front. 

“I nearly didn’t,” Niall says, probably a beat too late. Harry’s expression doesn’t change but Niall can feel the way his shoulders tense, the way his hand pressed against the small of Niall’s back has disappeared. 

“Why not?” Harry asks, something quiet and cool edging its way into his voice. His eyes are still closed but Niall can see the way his eyeballs are moving under their lids. 

Niall sighs out through his nose, already regretting bringing it up. They haven’t seen each other in so long. Haven’t even spoken until Harry’s email out of the blue last week. Niall wasn’t sure if they had moved on too much. Wasn’t sure if they’d be able to fall back into their old, easy ways.

Harry peers up at him, an eyelid fluttering open. 

“I didn’t know if it would be a good idea,” Niall tells him, his neck aching with the way he’s bending to meet Harry eye-on. 

Harry sucks on the side of his lip, his mouth twisting the way it does when he’s anxious or bored. 

“I’m glad I did, though, too,” Niall says quickly. 

Harry nods, leaning back into the cushions. His hair sticks up behind him, the ends of it freshly shorn. “It’s always a good idea between us. Right? It should always stay a good idea.”

Niall nods, feeling a little hollow at how unsure Harry sounds. He leans down, kisses the side of Harry’s mouth. 

“It is. We’re always a good idea.”

Harry smiles at him, the first one today that’s been a little unsure. Niall kisses him again, feeling reckless in his desperation to distract him, to prove that he wants to be there. Harry kisses him back, his fingers pressing at the base of Niall’s spine again. 

“Promise?” Harry whispers into his mouth. Niall isn’t sure if he’s meant to say it because Harry kisses him quickly afterwards, his hand pressing tighter at his back. 

“Promise,” Niall says anyway, a few minutes later when they’ve broken apart, their breathing shallow into each other’s mouths. Harry snorts, shifting over onto his back. The sofa isn’t wide enough for both of them and Niall has to cling onto him, smiling into Harry’s shoulder as Harry pulls one of Niall’s legs over his thigh to keep him from falling off. 

Niall tries not to laugh at how smug Harry looks. 

By the time dinner rolls around, the sun has sunk low enough in the sky to send purples and pinks across the horizon and Niall has had a few more glasses of the champagne, his head dizzy with the heat and bubbles. 

Harry appears out of the villa in turquoise, the shirt unbuttoned but tied in a knot just below his belly button. His jeans are tight, the button straining at his waistband. His hair is damp from another shower, his mouth red from where Niall spent ten minutes kissing him against the tiles under the spray again. 

Jeff and Glenne hardly react but Niall catches a few of the others exchanging looks, quick and covert, like they don’t even realise they’re doing it. Niall licks over his own red mouth, buttons another button on the shirt he stole out of Harry’s suitcase. 

Harry’s chatty through dinner -- calamari and crab, seabass ceviche, avocado and strawberry salads -- and Niall realises how little they’ve spoken to the rest of the group all day. Niall laughs in all the right places, introduces himself to everyone, names slotting into the back of his head but not registering just yet. He doesn’t think he’ll have to remember them. He’s not sure when he’ll meet them again. 

Harry drives the conversation, relaxing back into his chair with an arm slung over the back of Niall’s when he’s finished eating. It brings more of the focus back to him, Niall ducking his head slightly. Eyes have been on him all night but as the sun disappears and the sky darkens above them, flickering candles the only light except the moon, they feel more weighted. 

Niall plays with the stem of his beer bottle, watching as the lime inside bobs in the inch of liquid he has left. Harry’s fingers brush at his collar. 

They forgo dessert, Glenne getting to her feet with a cheeky grin. “Are we going dancing, then?” she asks Harry, always the driving force of the group. She’s already draining the cocktail in her hand, the salt rim long licked away. 

Niall glances over at him, the candlelight catching on his face and making his jaw look more defined, the rest of his face softening in the twilight. 

Harry’s gaze flicks over to meet his, his eyebrow arching and eyes bright. The decision is already made but Niall shrugs anyway, his mouth twisting on a smile.

Glenne grins too, pulling Jeff up by the arm. 

Their table is right on the beach, Niall’s toes sinking into the sand. Niall expects Glenne to veer left and head back into the resort but she keeps on down the beach, the sand soft and warm still against Niall’s bare soles. Harry’s between them, keeping pace but hanging back to be close to Niall. 

They walk for a few minutes, Niall’s tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. Harry glances over his shoulder, reaches out with an arm outstretched. 

Niall links their fingers together, quickening his pace so they can walk holding hands. It’s dark so no one will see but it makes Niall’s belly twist.

“We came here last time,” Harry tells him as they take a short cut off the beach. He leans in as if it’s a secret. Niall wasn’t aware he’d been here before but tries not to dwell on it too much. There’s plenty of places Harry seems able to disappear to lately without him knowing. 

Bright coloured drapes are slung up on rope, flapping in the breeze. Flames lick out of torches, twinkling fairy lights glitter where they’re strung between wooden poles. There are a few tables dotted around a square dance floor that leads right onto the beach, the rest of them pushed back against the wall of the bar. 

During the day, Niall can imagine this place as a quaint cafe, the juice bar and coffee stand looking out onto the ocean. By night, it’s a fully fledged bar. A band are seated under a cloister of red lights, half in shadow on a jutting piece of the restaurant decking. The dance floor is already filling up, couples pairing off under the low lighting. 

“Tequila,” Glenne says, hardly a question as she heads towards the bar. 

Harry grins at him, his hand sliding out of Niall’s as they fall under the heat of the torches. 

They do four or five shots in quick succession, Harry pressing a wedge of lime into his mouth until juice spurts out. Glenne grins triumphantly at them all, pulling Jeff into the dance floor. She’s wearing a white dress and it’s easy to see where Jeff puts his hands, pulling at it as they start to dance close together. Niall watches as the hem edges up, more and more of her tanned thighs on display. 

Harry presses a drink into his hand. It’s pale grapefruit pink, the ice cubes knocking together but the glass lukewarm against his palm. He takes a sip, smarting at the taste of tequila and citrus despite the shots they’ve just done. It’s fizzy and a little sour, Niall nearly drains the glass. 

“Do you want to dance?” Harry asks, his eyes hungry on Jeff and Glenne in the middle of the dance floor. 

Niall snorts, his mouth around the straw of his drink. He feels nervous, pulling at the straw just for something to do. He’ll be too drunk if he keeps at this rate, the barman sliding two more pearly pink drinks into the space between Harry and Niall’s elbows. 

“Dance?” Niall asks, stalling for time. The band is loud, the crash of the ocean and the sea breeze making it more difficult to hear. He can blame it on that. He steps forward enough to feel the heat of Harry’s chest. He can blame that on the din too. 

Harry turns to him, his own glass empty too. He sets it down, the ice cubes not even melted. “Yeah,” he nods towards the dance floor. Glenne’s lifted a leg now, her knee bent as she leans into Jeff. Her sandal is hanging, hooked on just by her toes. Niall stares at the arch of her foot, the elegance of her ankle. There are more couples now, dancing close and quick to the band until the dance floor is nearly one, all of them moving to the same beat. 

“Like that?” Niall asks, smiling as if it’s a joke. Except, there’s heat pooling in his gut at the thought of it. Of pressing close to Harry. Of pretending no one here knows who they are. Of dancing that close. 

Harry cocks his head, his eyes bright again. He looks nearly nonchalant, his hair flopping over his forehead but Niall knows that he’s cycling through the same thoughts. They’ve never done anything like this in public before. Never could. Not properly.

“Yeah.”

He says it so simply, with so much confidence that Niall steps closer. Harry’s mouth quirks, his hand reaching for the other drink.

“Dancing” Niall breathes, his hand hooking into the belt loop of Harry’s jeans, loose with how he pulls them up every day. “Seems like a good idea.”

Harry grins at him, his teeth shining. “We like good ideas don’t we?” He knocks back another shot, his hand sliding across Niall’s side. 

Every movement feels huge, Harry’s hand against his ribs, stepping forward together on the same footing, the brush of silk against the inside of his wrist. 

They push through the crowd, the bar getting busy now as restaurants empty out and the moon fully rises. It’s hot, not like it’s nighttime at all but Niall revels in the press of people at either side of them, none of them bothered that Niall and Harry are pressed so close. 

Niall rolls his neck, lets himself listen to the music for a moment. There’s a fast beat to it, Spanish words washing over him as someone starts to sing along. It’s too fast for Niall to catch the lyrics but he doesn’t care, Harry pressing his stomach into Niall’s open palms. 

“C’mon,” Harry says, his voice close to Niall’s ear. 

They catch onto the rhythm quickly, their hips moving together. Niall runs his hand up Harry’s side, into the damp space below his arm. The other one skates across his back, fingers brushing the hot skin between his shirt and his jeans. 

Harry’s doing the same -- his hands roving over Niall’s body before they settle on his hips, jolting him forward until they finally press into each other. 

Niall can feel where he’s half-hard against his hip. Harry looks strung out, his pupils blown wide and dark in the dim lighting. Niall presses closer, his hands falling to Harry’s hips. They grind against each other achingly slow. 

“Niall,” Harry groans, his head falling closer until his sweaty forehead is pressed against Niall’s shoulder. He can feel the heat of his skin through the material of his shirt. Harry’s hair tickles at Niall’s neck, the smell of him so close setting him on edge. 

He wants him right there. He swallows, tastes grapefruit. Over Harry’s shoulder, he can see Glenne, her head thrown back as Jeff bites at her neck. The couple beside them are kissing too, others pressed so close that Niall can’t tell. 

Niall lifts a hand to Harry’s throat, feels the heat of his pulse and the scratch of his jaw. He’s sweating, his hairline damp as Niall brings his face up, angles him just right to kiss him properly. 

Niall’s heart stutters that they’re doing this. Right there in the middle of the dance floor. Harry groans into it -- Niall feels it rather than hears -- and his fingers are twisting in Niall’s hair, holding him there as he kisses him back.

Niall only pulls back when it’s turned into panting breaths and scraping teeth. His head feels light and he leans his face back, stares up past the fairy lights to the twinkling stars. Harry scrapes his teeth down Niall’s throat, his tongue lapping across Niall’s collarbone. 

A button has come undone so Niall looks nearly as undressed as Harry, his shirt flapping open as Harry presses a hand to his abdomen, both of them too hot. 

Niall feels around the shape of Harry’s phone in his back pocket, the edge of his credit card, pulls him closer with a hand on his arse and swallows the moan in his throat at the feeling of friction between them. 

“I’ll come,” Harry warns him, his voice husky at Niall’s ear. Niall doesn’t care. Nearly wants him to in front of all of these people. They’ve stopped dancing, the pair of them stood completely still and pressed against each other. 

“Niall,” Harry whines desperately. “Come on.”

“We can’t --” Niall starts. We can’t leave the rest of them, he wants to say but Harry’s looking at him, his eyes dark under the slanting orange flickering lights and then they’re twisting through the crowd, his shirt damp down his spine as Harry presses up against his back. 

Niall gasps, Harry’s dick pressed against his arse as they make their way down the beach. Niall’s hard too, throbbing and bulging through the pull of his shorts but Harry must be embarrassed, his hand clamping around Niall’s shoulder to keep him pressed against his front. 

Niall lets out a delirious laugh, his feet sinking into the sand again. They stagger a bit, the dim light of the bar fading as they walk further onto the beach. 

Harry’s hand slides down, his palm cupping around Niall’s dick through the material of his shorts. “Harry,” Niall gasps, his head falling back onto Harry’s shoulder. Harry’s still pressed up behind him, his free hand sliding up Niall’s bare stomach to pull on his nipple. 

They can still hear the music from the bar, louder whenever the breeze blows towards them but otherwise, the beach around them is empty. 

“I wanna fuck you,” Harry tells him, his breath hot at his ear. Then, Harry bites at his earlobe, his tongue licking up to suck on it. Niall shudders, elbows him out of the way before his tongue licks actually into his ear. 

“Not here,” he says breathlessly, except he can’t stop pressing his arse back into the cradle of Harry’s hips to feel how hard he is. There are only a few layers of fabric and Niall’s reckless enough, desperate enough that he could try it. 

No one would see. 

Harry’s hand squeezes, his thumb pressing into the crease of his hip. Niall can’t help but widen his legs, push back.

Harry’s breath catches, his hips rolling and then they’re falling into the sand in a tangle of limbs. 

“Niall,” Harry moans, his wrist trapped below Niall’s hip. Niall gasps out a laugh, rolling until Harry can slot in on top of him instead of sprawled across his back. His head feels light, the beach spinning around them.

Harry catches his laughing mouth in another kiss, grinding into Niall’s thigh. He manages to squeeze a hand between them, pulling at the zip of Niall’s shorts until he can get the head of his dick out. 

“Harry,” Niall gasps, in warning. Harry’s face presses into the dip of his neck but he’s too far gone, his mouth working against Niall’s neck instead of answering. Niall gasps, nearly just lets him rut against him until they both come but manages to find his words. “You can’t come here. Someone’ll see.”

Harry moans something in response, his hand squeezing around Niall’s dick. “Let them.”

Niall’s knee jerks, his toes curling into the warm sand. It feels too good, Harry’s weight spread across him, his thumb pressing against his slit. He clutches Harry closer with a hand on his sweaty back, his fingers slipping into the tight waistband of his jeans but not able to get any further without him unbuttoning them.

Harry gasps into his neck, his teeth scraping across Niall’s pulse point before he’s collapsing like a dead weight across him. 

Niall rolls his hips. “Harry?” 

“Sorry,” Harry gasps, his mouth sloppy and uncoordinated as he tries to kiss his way up to Niall’s mouth. 

Niall stares up at the stars, his chest bubbling with laughter. “Did you just --”

Harry makes a noise, licks at Niall’s chin. “I’ll make it up to you,” Harry promises, his tongue dragging across his jaw and then slipping into his mouth. His hand wriggles between them, bends awkwardly to tug on Niall’s dick. He’s gone slippery, Harry easing pre-come down the length of his dick that’s spilling out of his fly. 

Harry’s breath is hot against his ear, his teeth scraping over his jaw as he kisses down it. “Are you gonna come for me?”

Niall can’t answer, his breath catching as he comes over his fingers. 

“You still have to make it up to me,” Niall says belatedly, his heart still hammering in his chest. Harry snuffles a laugh into his shoulder, patting at his face with his sticky fingers. Niall dodges away from, rolls them a body’s width closer to the sea. “Disgustin’,” he mutters, not finding the energy to be angry at him. 

Harry laughs roughly, kissing him again until the tide creeps up to them, lapping at their bare feet. Niall jumps, his softening cock nudging against Harry’s tummy. 

“Come on,” Harry says, stifling a yawn into the back of his hand. Niall opens his eyes, sees his sated expression when he finally pulls himself up. They’re covered in sand, Harry’s hair wild with it. Niall grins at him, wriggling his toes in the water until it recedes again. “I have a bed with your name on it.”

The walk home seems shorter, both of them giggling as they make their way up the beach. Harry keeps his hand looped around his wrist, trailing half a step behind him as they work their way through sun loungers and empty tables towards the villa. 

It’s not that late though, a few other people still out on the deck. Niall knows they must look a state but he can’t wipe the pleased smile off his face. Harry doesn’t drop his hand. 

They don’t bother with the lights, just make their way through the villa towards the bed. Harry collapses into it with his shirt still tied around his waist, kicking his jeans off the bottom of the bed. 

“It’s all sandy,” Niall complains on the end of a yawn. Harry shrugs with one shoulder, opens his arm up for Niall to collapse into. Niall strips out of his shirt and shorts, matching his smile. It feels nice to press up against him, their legs tangling together. 

Harry presses a hot kiss to Niall’s mouth, tasting sharp with lime. “Love you,” he mumbles, his eyelids already drooping closed. “Love our good ideas.” 

Niall smiles, rolling so his face is pressed into the hot hollow of his neck.

He doesn’t sleep long -- just enough for the drunken elated buzz to wear off. The sound of the ocean wakes him, sounding so close from the bed basically on the beach. Niall lies on his back, cool coastal breeze washing over his naked skin. Harry’s curled beside him, his head resting on Niall’s chest. 

He has to leave in a few hours, a sinking feeling that he can’t have this forever. He stares up at the pre-dawn sky, still not quite believing that there isn’t a wall on the back of the villa, until Harry shifts, his arm coming down over Niall’s belly. 

“Hey,” Niall says, turning his head so he can see Harry blearily blink an eye open. He could fall straight back to sleep and probably not even remember stirring but Niall doesn’t want to leave in a rush in the morning. Doesn’t want to waste the little time they have left. 

“What?” Harry asks, his voice rough. “What’s wrong?” Niall grins at him, leaning over to press a kiss below his eye. He can feel his eyelashes pressed this close, how he smells of sleep and salt. 

“Wake up,” Niall hums, letting his hand wander. He’s naked from the waist down, his dick lying soft against his thigh. They should’ve showered before bed but Niall doesn’t mind as he rolls closer to him, pressing his own naked front against his thigh. He smells familiar, smells like Niall now too.

Harry huffs out a breath, his body drifting back to sleep. Niall watches him, tries to remember it, catalogues it away in the recess of his mind. It’s the tiny things. Little things like the softness of Harry’s mouth, the flare of his nostrils, the swoop of his hair over his forehead. The way his fingers have gone limp, barely touching Niall’s skin. 

When they’d left it -- put a line under whatever this is -- Niall didn’t realise how many of these little things he would forget when the all the space inside his chest was taken up by the big things he missed instead.

Harry’s mouth moves, his bottom lip wet from his tongue. He breathes and Niall watches for a moment, the suck in of air, the way his belly swells with it, his chest rising and then it’s out again, catching on the back of his throat in a barely there snore. 

“Harry,” Niall cajoles again, pressing up closer to his side. He slides a hand over his chest, the collar of the shirt gaping open so he can see the edge of his nipple. It looks dark in the shadowy light and Niall sighs softly, leaning in to suck it into his mouth. 

Harry wakes up slowly, his hand sliding against Niall’s skull. Niall sucks, his teeth grazing over his nipple and Harry’s body jerks, his knees coming up protectively. “What?” he asks sleepily, half curling onto his side away from him. 

Niall laughs against his chest, sweeping his hand down to squeeze gently at Harry’s hip. He gives him a moment, feels for when he relaxes before he slides his hand back to wrap around Harry’s dick. 

“Niall,” Harry gasps, his fingers coming down to paw at Niall’s temple, down his cheek, over his lip. Niall licks at the pads of them, swirls the tip of his tongue over his cuticles and then sucks them into his mouth. Harry moans softly, his knees relaxing and falling apart. “Niall, Niall.”

Niall smiles. He never wants him to stop saying his name like that. He opens his mouth, looks up. “You gonna fuck me now?”

Harry grins, his eyes flicking up the barely-there ceiling. “Fucking hell.”

Niall laughs, lets Harry wrestle them over so he’s hovering above him. They kiss for a few moments, Harry still clumsy with sleep. Niall lets his hands wander, tugs at the silk of his shirt until Harry sits up to pull it off. 

“Hold on,” Harry murmurs, rolling off the bed and scrambling for his suitcase. Niall’s heart picks up, hammers in his chest as he rolls onto his front. Harry’s shirt is caught underneath him, the silk smooth and cool against his skin. Niall stretches, feels the brush of it over his erection. 

Harry fingers him open with his mouth pressed to his left arse cheek and Niall’s hands twisted in the sheets. Harry makes a show of drizzling lube over Niall’s arsehole, his thumb smearing it around until everything feels warm and slick. He presses tiny little kisses against the muscle of his thigh as Niall clenches down against the stretch of his knuckles, Harry pushing his knee up out of the way and spreading him open carefully. 

They don’t speak, Niall mewling into the pillow, his face hidden as he gasps and wriggles against Harry’s long fingers. He takes his time -- longer than they usually would but Niall doesn’t mind letting it last.

“Can --” Harry says, his voice rough and choked. Niall turns his head, blinks at how much lighter the room looks now it’s creeping closer to morning. His face feels hot, his entire body wound tight. “Can you roll over? I want --”

Niall drags a breath of air, tastes the salt in it. Harry’s fingers pop out of his arse and he smears lube over Niall’s hip as he helps him over onto his back. Niall blinks up, sees how open Harry’s face looks, pink and wide-eyed. 

“Harry --” Niall says, his own voice shot. He doesn't know what to say. 

Harry drags his eyes down over Niall’s flushed skin. He’s knelt between Niall’s splayed legs, his dick wet and shiny in his free fist. “I want to see you,” he says, his eyes meeting Niall’s. 

Niall nods, can’t find the words to reply. He bends his knees, plants his feet on the mattress. Harry leans forward, his sticky hand going to the back of Niall’s thigh as he pushes it up. 

Niall swallows, pulls his knees up into the air with a hand hooked under each one. Harry keeps sending him these intense looks, his gaze darting from Niall’s face down to where his dick is pressing up against his belly button to his hole where he’s exposed. 

Niall swings his foot, hooks his heel against Harry’s shoulder to urge him forward. Harry lets go of a breathy laugh, shuffles up close to him. 

“You know, I haven’t --” Harry starts to say. Niall can see how tense his face has gone, all his concentration going to where he’s pressing his dick up against Niall’s hole. Niall can feel the smear of his pre-come, slick on slick. 

Niall clutches at his leg tighter. “Harry, please.”

Harry nods, his mouth dropping open. He looks a bit dazed as he presses forward, Niall can feel the nudge of his dick and gasps, letting his eyes flutter shut. 

He hasn’t either. Niall hasn’t fucked anyone like this since Harry. Since the last time they did this. It wasn’t even the last time they saw each other but months before that, quick and fast and dirty. 

Not like this. Slow and tense in the pre-dawn quiet.

“H,” Niall breathes through his nose, clenching his teeth. Harry’s going excruciatingly slow. The head of his dick feeling massive compared to the stretch of his fingers, the slick dripping down the crack of his arse and into the sheets. His fingernails bite into the flesh of his thighs, Niall doing everything he can to stop his sweaty palms slipping. 

Harry eases himself in, Niall groaning with the stretch. It takes Harry a few moments before he’s working himself out again, his head dipped as he watches where he’s disappearing into Niall’s hole. Niall groans, his head spinning as blood floods south and he’s starting to chub up again.

A hand goes to Niall’s thigh, folding it back further into his chest. Niall can hardly breathe, the ache in his chest sharp compared to the low thrum of heat in his balls. Harry pulls back, slams in again. Niall lets go of his breath and it sounds loud, his ears rushing with blood. 

It’s been so long. Niall doesn’t know why it’s been so long.

Harry tilts forward, the angle shifting so it feels like something lighting up behind Niall’s pelvis. Niall arches up and Harry looms closer, his mouth red and wet. There’s sweat gathered at his hairline, his hair a mess. 

Something inside Niall swells at the sight of him. The way his face has gone pink, the soft bow of his lips. 

Niall arches up, his mouth opening. Harry meets him in a frantic kiss, his mouth hot as he sucks on his lip. He plants a hand beside Niall’s shoulder, uses it for leverage and fucks into him again, his pace faltering slightly. 

“Fuck,” Harry groans, settling in deep. Niall chokes on a breath, wetness gathering at the corner of his eyes. He hasn’t felt this _full_ in a long time. 

Harry says his name, hardly even a proper word with how hard he’s breathing. “Niall. Niall.”

Niall lets go of one of his legs, his hand flying up to cover his face. It feels numb, the skin tingling as he presses his fingers to his cheeks, to his brow. It feels better hidden behind his palm so Harry can’t see his expression. Can’t see where he’s slowing falling apart. 

“I --” Harry pants, kneeling up again. Niall can hear his intake of breath. “I-- fuck.” 

Niall bites on his hand, grunting at how desperate he feels. He can feel the way his muscles are starting to tense, the start of a cramp in his calf. “Please,” he says through his hand. “Please. Harry.” 

Harry leans back, his eyes wide as he drags his hand down over Niall’s front. Niall arches into it, uses his own hand to twist on his nipple. He wants to come. Doesn’t care how it happens now. 

“I fucking --” Harry starts again, his gaze caught on Niall’s chest. Niall clenches down on his dick, watching as Harry’s mouth falls open. 

“Come on,” Niall manages to say, arching up against him. He wraps his spit slick hand around his own cock, letting the jolt of Harry’s hips push his dick through his loose fingers. 

Harry loses it first, his fingers going tight at Niall’s hips. He collapses onto his heels, his head falling back so Niall can see the jump of his pulse, the way his Adam’s apple works on each breath. His hand are tight against Niall’s hips -- enough to bruise -- pulling Niall up onto his lap. Niall gasps a breath, his spine stretched up in an arch and his shoulders pressed into the mattress. 

“Harry,” Niall laughs, his chest too tight to catch a proper breath. His throat feels wrecked, his entire body strung tight. A foot is hanging in the air from where his knee is hooked over Harry’s elbow, the other set of toes curling into the silk of Harry’s shirt where it’s caught under them. 

Niall clenches down again, feels the judder of it up the base of his spine. Harry groans, on the edge of pain and slowly eases out of him. Harry doesn’t say anything, his expression dazed as he watches the space between them. Niall tries to breathe, his hand going tighter around his dick. Harry slides off the bed, his hand hot around Niall’s ankle. 

“I love -- Niall -- I -- Can --” Harry mumbles, hardly making sense before he’s dipping in, his mouth wet against Niall’s hole. 

Niall’s leg jerks, Harry’s fingers pressing against the inside of his thigh to stop him from clamping them shut, curling into the crease of his groin. His nose presses against Niall’s balls, Harry’s tongue lapping at where his own come is starting to ooze out of Niall’s hole. 

Niall’s mind goes blank, the gentle curl of Harry’s tongue the only thing he can process before he’s coming over his fingers again, his back arching off the bed. He remembers to breathe, his head pounding. 

Harry slides back up onto the bed, exhausted. Niall turns his head, his ears still ringing. Harry smiles, his eyes creasing closed as he curls up beside him close.

Niall presses a quiet kiss to his shoulder. Lets him sleep.

*

Harry’s waiting for him when he gets out of the shower. Niall steals some of his deodorant, squeezes back into his too thick jeans and pulls on a hat that Harry has hooked over the end of a dining chair. 

He’s sitting at a wicker table that looks out onto the ocean, a tiny pair of black boxers on but nothing else. The sky is a pale pink, it’s still so early. 

Niall watches him for a moment. The steady rise of his shoulders as he breathes, the way his hair needs washing, how the pink on his back is from yesterday’s sun. 

Niall wants to tell him. Wants to tell him how much fun he had. How much he loved seeing him again. How he wants to do this again. How much he misses him. He wants to tell him how proud he is, how happy he is that Harry’s doing so well. Wants to blurt out all the crazy shit he’s been up to whilst Harry’s been away too. 

But in the end, it’s better that he doesn’t. 

Harry turns his head before Niall says anything as if sensing him behind him. He looks sad for a moment, his eyes catching on Niall’s bag before he smiles something genuine. "Is that you then?"

Harry looks like he wants to say some things too. 

Instead, they press everything they want to say into their hug. Niall clutches him close, Harry’s hand warm against Niall’s spine, the other curling around his neck. Niall closes his eyes on the sunrise, buries his face into Harry’s hot neck. 

“I’ll see you soon,” Niall says, brushing his lips against his cheekbone. Lingering close.

Harry smiles fondly at him, his hand squeezing at his shoulder. “Email me when you land.”

Niall nods, stepping away from him. He’ll email. Harry won’t respond. Harry’s grip slides down to his wrist until they can hook their fingers together. Niall squeezes them for a moment before letting them drop. 

He turns his back before it gets too hard, steps away from Harry and his sleepy smile. He’s not sure if he’s imagining the weight of Harry’s eyes on his back as he leaves and he can’t help himself from glancing over his shoulder just before he turns the corner back into the hotel. 

Harry’s sitting back in the chair again, his expression obscured by how bright the sun is as it breaks over the horizon.

**Author's Note:**

> a paloma is a cocktail made with tequila and grapefruit juice and i want to be on a beach drinking one.


End file.
